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It was a cloudy Monday morning in September, and Helen was my first patient, a walk-in. She sat in the chair next to the desk in the examination room. Her thin gray hair was pulled back from her face in a tight bun, and she looked at me with her searching blue eyes, the usual glint absent. There was a hint of blush against her cheekbones, and it provided contrast to the black-green bruise above her left eye.

“I turned to lock the door, and she fell,” Edward said before I could ask the question.

I looked at Helen and started to examine her as Edward told me the story. They were going to the senior center; she was on the porch and started to walk down the stairs before he could hold her hand.